Far Harbor Fish Tale
by FightingKentuckian
Summary: In search of a story, Piper finds herself with Far Harbor's most respected individual. Old Longfellow has become a respected hunter around the Island, and like any good hunter, he's also a good storyteller. Drinks will flow at the Last Plank, and lies will be told.
1. A Hunting Story

The Fog was light this particular evening in Far Harbor. The bottle lanterns glowed brightly and the alcohol flowed freely inside of The Last Plank. The usual crowd had just shuffled in for the night shift. The last person through the door was not one of the regulars. Her red trench coat stood out among the drab colors of the harbormans' waders and hats. Ignoring the obvious stares, she scanned the room as if she were on a mission.

"Hey," her shout addressed the room, "If you're done gawking. Where is Longfellow?" There were a few murmurs before Mitch spoke up,

"Over there." His head nodded towards a table hidden behind the wall. She hurried across the beer soaked wooden planks while disdaining whispers of 'Mainlanders' echoed across the barroom. As promised, Piper found a surly old man held up in chair, pouring a half-empty bottle of whiskey into a glass. Weary eyes met her as she took a seat opposite him. He addressed her in a gruff tone.

"Where's your sidekick at?" Piper took a moment to think of what he meant as she fiddled around in coat pockets,

"Oh, Blue? Ah, he's probably having fun playing Minuteman. Think Preston had something for him to look into." Longfellow responded with raised eyebrows, then fired off another question,

"And whadda you want with me?" his scratchy voice hid the curiousness in his question. Finally digging out the notebook she was looking for, Piper gave him her full attention,

"Working on a new story, a big, slice of life, piece. Give the Diamond City readers a view into a different part of the world." Longfellow leaned back in his chair, the backrest creaking with age.

"You came an awful long way just for that."

"It was either this or write a story about how great," Piper exaggerated that word, "the Dugout Inn is." she now leaned back in her own chair, mimicking Longfellow, "You know I'm glad the Institute is gone, but it makes finding worthy stories a little tougher." Old Longfellow leaned up and let out a quick chuckle,

"Don't rightly know if I've got any worthy stories. What are your readers interested in hearing?" he finished his statement with a sip of whiskey from his glass. Piper ran a finger under her chin in contemplation.

"What do you have? Surely the oldest resident of Far Harbor has seen a lot." She smiled lightly, Longfellow returned the grin,

"You looking for the oldest resident I recommend talking to Cassie Dalton, ya ornery cuss." Longfellow searched his brain for a story he'd want to be immortalized in print, "How about the time my father almost got eaten by gulpers when I was young?" Piper gave a disapproving look, "Or the time I fought a pack of wolves with just my hands? I had used my last rifle round about an hour prior…" Now Piper's look was one of unamused disbelief. Longfellow huffed before continuing, "Well, after that I learned to keep count of my bullets. There was one time I helped rebuild the docks here in town after a damned Crawler took'em out."

"Okay, we're getting closer. Any story where you overcame a loss…" she waved her hands as she thought on, "and then preserved to…" she gestured her hands at Longfellow. A memory raised across his mind that soured his face.

"That's a story I don't tell to most any folks." He took a much larger gulp from his glass, this time consuming it completely. As he poured another glass, Piper recced her presence from the table as she recognized a struck nerve when she saw it. Sitting down the bottle, Longfellow spoke again, "But there was a time after that, about 6 months," he took a sip from the fresh glass, "where I was out hunting and ended up being hunted by trappers." Piper leaned forward again and started searching around in the breast pocket of her coat for a pen.

"How did this happen?" she asked still searching for the pen.

"I had been pouring myself into hunting at the time, to distract me." He saw that Piper was still distractingly looking for a writing utensil, "It's stuck behind your ear." He motioned toward her right ear. With an embarrassed smile, Piper removed the pen and started jotting down Longfellow's story.


	2. Working the Angler

"I had come into the Last Plank to restock on supplies. Course this was some years ago, back when Mitch's father was behind the bar. As I procured my weekly allotment of whiskey, he mentioned some folks had been waiting here to have a word with me, and then he pointed me over towards a couple sitting at that table over there." He pointed towards a table currently occupied with rowdy fishermen dealing cards. Piper pretended to write that down, not expecting such a detail to be necessary for the story, "So, I go over and ask them what exactly it is they want. Apparently they were interested in visiting the Vim! factory southwest of here. After they found an old crate with about 4 good bottles of the soda in a gas station they tracked down its source. They were hoping to make more of it, had some notion about it being a better alternative to Nuka-Cola. I never cared for either myself." Longfellow stated his opinion while taking another drink of whiskey, "Seemed like a real nice young couple, but not a lick of wilderness experience between them. Spent their lives running a general store in some town in the Maple Wastes. Oh, what was it called?" Longfellow twiddled his finger around as he tried to recall the town's name. "Mount Pelier? Montplyers? Ah, not important." Piper responded by scratching out the names on her notebook. By this time, Mitch had begun politely eavesdropping on the interview as he wiped down the bar.

"Course I told them the Vim! factory had been full of super mutants for a number of years, but that didn't deter them." Longfellow continued his tale, "Then I told them it was enough to deter me." Another drink of whiskey left Longfellow with his glass empty a second time. He went to pour from the bottle only to find it empty.

"Mitch, I'm fresh out!" He waved the glass bottle up in the air as he raised his voice over the crowd. While they waited for the bartender, Longfellow continued his story, "Luckily for them, I was planning on doing some Angler hunting around that area. So I told them I'd take them up there, but it'd cost them 1,000 caps for me to tussle with Super Mutants." At this point Mitch had arrived at the table with a new bottle.

"When you told me that story you said you charged them 1,500 caps." Came his interjection as he sat the bottle down. Longfellow grunted in thought as he poured another round for himself,

"Hmm, I probably told you wrong. Why don't you bring another glass for our guest?" he avoided further discussion on the topic. Mitch rolled his eyes as he went back to grab a small glass for Piper from behind the bar. With another swig of drink, Longfellow turned to Piper, "Now where was I?"

"You were charging the couple 1,500 caps to be their guide." She got the old hunter back on track.

"It was only 1,000." He defended his claim, "So, there we were starting out into the fog." He got into the meat of his tale, "Those two stayed real close to me after that damned fog covered up the lights of the Harbor. Honestly, it was some of the best weather I'd been hunting in for some time. Downright peaceful evening, if it weren't for their constant chattering. Any wildlife in a 5 mile radius could heard us coming through the woods." Debby approached the table with the glass Longfellow requested as he rambled on, "Every little thing we passed they had to ask about, 'What's that plant? What just ran through the bushes?' Typical nosy Mainlanders." Piper was not amused at his jab. Debby broke up his story chain as she sat down the glass,

"Which tall tale is he telling this time?" Piper drug the cup over the wooden tabletop towards her and reached to pour a small amount of whiskey.

"Now, I don't tell no fish stories, Debby." Longfellow answered for her, but after Piper finished sipping her drink she provided her own,  
"It's supposed to be about how he was hunted by Trappers, but so far he's just told me about soda pop." She goaded the old man.

"I'm building up to that. If you ain't got the backstory you aren't gonna get the full pitcure." The exchange between the three attracted the attention of a nearby table of local fishermen. They chuckled softly to themselves as they sipped cold beers. Longfellow had unwittingly picked up a small audience. Sitting down her drink, Piper took up her pen and paper again and made eye contact with Longfellow,

"I'm still interested. Please, continue." He topped off his own glass, waved Debby off, and returned to his story,

"I finally had to tell them they had to be quiet if they wanted to get into the soda factory, course didn't do much good. They kept asking questions, now they just whispered them to me. All things considered, we were still making decent time. The Harbor Grand Hotel was sighted in front of us and we had passed the mountain pass that led up to Acadia. Before we got too close to that hotel, I caught sight of an Angler bedding down in a nearby shallow pond. Now, Anglers are a tricky beast. Mostly hunt solo as they're ambush predators. That's why I recommend people avoid taking midnight swims in the ponds around here. When you do stir one up those suckers'll take a deep breath of fog and spit it at ya, and I've seen some real clever ones get a belly of fog as they bed down and let it seep out their gills while they sleep, making it harder to spot'em." Piper sat her notebook down during Longfellow's dissertation on Anglers to take another drink of whiskey. He was extremely knowledgeable in his trade, but this diversion wouldn't fit in the editorial. The table of fishermen tried to poorly hide sly smiles. Longfellow caught their shit-eating grins, huffed a sneer at them, and returned to his original tale, "I told that couple to put their heads in the dirt while I saddled Henrietta up on my shoulder."

"Henrietta?" Piper quizzically asked with an eyebrow raised towards her sleek, black hair. Longfellow made a small chuckle before answering,

"My rifle. Man who gave it to me gave it that name, and I respected him too much to change it." He took another drink, "Kneeled down and took aim towards the Angler's gills, right behind its head. That's the best place to shoot those damn things." Longfellow half mimicked holding an invisible rifle in his hands as he relived the shot, "He was just starting to puff out fog as I struck him. He rolled around and hissed a bit, but weren't long before he was lying dead. The couple had their hands over their ears trying to get the ringing out of their head. Told them to stay laying there as I went down to field dress the Angler carcass." He took a final draw of whiskey and was once again refilling his glass, "As I got down there and started working out its innards I hear something up the path. Footsteps. They belong to something upright and something big. Then I hear the voice of a super mutant. You know, that big, dumb voice they all have. Saying how he heard someone. I immediately hit the water and pull the Angler carcass over me as much as I can. My wool coat is soaked in swampy water & Angler entrails now. Look up at the couple. They were still laying down, but they'd poked their heads up to look at me. I'm waving my hand at them, telling them to get down when I see the big ugly emerge through the Fog cover. Luckily, they saw him too and ducked down. I could make out at least 3 of them from my position. Heard one of them stop and start sniffing the air. Judged him to be about right in front of my two customers. I was getting worried to say the least. He continued snorting the air and started down my way. He had caught a whiff of those damned Angler guts. I could see his green, slimy toes in the shallow pool in front of me. Suddenly, I felt something pressing down from above me. That mutant was jamming his rifle barrel into the carcass. He stood there for what felt like ages, contemplating I suppose, until he let out a snort and started to walk off to catch the other two mutants who had moved down further." It was at this point the table of fishermen finally chimed in,

"Ah, Longfellow." The barrel-chested fisher shouted, "Last month, you told that story and said the super mutants didn't even see the dead Angler, just walked right by you." The other fishermen waited with drunken fervor for the hunter's reply,

"Livesey, you drunk bastard. You're thinking of the time I had to climb that tree full of Gulpers to hide from those super mutants patrolling that old spa."

"I think you've got your stories mixed up. Sure you don't need me to tell this one for you." Livesey, the large fisherman, retorted through a glazed tone.

"If I ever need to tell a story 'bout how I found a treasure map in a radgull's gullet I'll come straight to you." The mention of this tale put a big smile on Livesey's face and filled his belly with laughter, laughter infectious enough to spread to the other drinkers at his table.

"Aye, that story actually happened. I got the…," the drunk man stuffed his hands in his waders, "got the…," he tried another set of pocket, "the map… right…" After a quick drink of whiskey, Longfellow stopped the bumbling man,

"Are you gonna keep interrupting me, or can I tell this reporter the story she came here for?" Livesey dropped his hands back to the table and clutched his beer bottle,

"Please, go on. Sure, she'll find this entertaining."

"I know we are!" came another voice from the table as they all hooted and hollered.


	3. Who Shot Second?

Before Longfellow could continue, Piper chimed in with a question,

"Do you always hide from super mutants? A small party like that shouldn't be that tough to take out." A soft smile curled along Longfellow's gray beard,

"Well, super mutants ain't exactly good eating." He found that remark funnier than Piper did, "Mutants, like cheaply made whiskey, are best avoided. Sure, a small group isn't nothing too much to handle, but after a while they start wising up to whose killing them and then they come looking for ya. I'd rather not have to look over my shoulder every time I go to snag some Gulper meat." Piper was content with this answer, and so Longfellow continued, "After I was sure we were well out of those mutants' earshot I tossed that stinking carcass off me, gathered up a few of the good small cuts of meat, and went to check on my two tagalongs. They were a little shaken. Said it was the first time they ever got so close to one of those green meanies. I let them recompose themselves while I took a rope and pulled the Angler body up high into a strong tree." Longfellow took a drink of whiskey that emptied his glass again, "Do that when I don't want to lug the whole thing across the Island. Tie it up high enough most things will ignore it and I planned to grab it on my way back to town. As we continued down towards the Vim! factory I kept us about 5 ft. off the main path with the hope we'd avoid bumping into any more wandering mutants."

"Hoped to avoid them?" came a journalistic question from Piper.

"Yeah, it didn't quite work out for us that way." Longfellow answered as he poured himself another glass, "We were just west of the Hotel now, and the Fog was getting soupy. Of course, after our first encounter with the local mutant population those two had even more questions about the green monsters. I remember the husband was asking me why they had chosen the Vim! factory to hold up in. In my attempt to answer I didn't pay attention to the sound of broad shoulders brushing back overhanging tree branches, not till it was too late. By the time I silenced those two and got down I could hear the mutants already heard us and started searching. I had to keep them moving, we were no good as sitting targets. They were following my footsteps exactly. Could hear the breathing of one of the mutant's, probably only…" Longfellow stopped to think a moment, "6 feet off. We were almost passed them when the wife misstepped and cracked a bundle of fallen twigs under her boot. Immediately, footsteps started towards us. There were 4 mutants that came from the mist. I took sight of the one closest to me and cracked off a shot that hit him in the skull. Two of the other mutants scooped up both of my customers and shouted how they were going to eat good tonight." A drink of whiskey was required before Longfellow went on, "That couple may've been a pain in my ass, but I wasn't going to let them get carried away from super mutants. Ain't no one deserve that, except maybe a few of those fools from the Children of Atom. Anyways, I sighted in the fleeing monster who had the husband slung over his shoulder and fired a round down range. Hit him in the calf, but didn't cause him to drop the man. Before I could lever in a new round, I got clobbered upside the head by the third super mutant. I didn't come to until much later."

"You told us you did get a second shot off, Longfellow." Once again the table of rowdy fishermen interrupted the interview.

"Yeah, make sure you write this down mainlander. He hit that mutant a second time. Know where?" came Livesey's voice.

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me." Piper responded while taking a chance to grab a drink from her glass.

"Hit the super mutant right in the ass." Came the answer. Longfellow got a humored look from Piper,

"Did you really?" she asked holding back a laugh. Scratching his neck, Longfellow shamefully answered,

"Yeah, I hit him in the rear before that third mutant knocked me out."

"Why'd you neglect to mention it?" Piper asked, now failing at holding her laughter.

"Cause of that reason right there." He motioned to her snicker, "It ain't very fitting for the story. I was in a hurry and happened to be off my mark." He then shot a glare at Livesey, "It happens to the best of us." With another shot of liquor, Old Longfellow returned to his story after Piper recomposed herself, "So, after I shot that mutant in the ass I was knocked out. When I came back to my senses the three mutants were carrying us across a shallow part of one of the inlet streams. Turns out they were taking us right to the pop factory. The mutant carrying me had Henrietta slung around his wide forearm. The other two with that couple were a ways ahead of me. Without alerting the brute carrying me, I reached for the knife I keep on my belt." He tapped to the knife in question hanging on his leather belt, "Worked it out of the holder and tried to get the bastard in the side, right under the armpit. The super mutant hollered as he dropped me in the water. On my way down I grabbed the stock of Henrietta. Couldn't get her off the brute's arm, but I did swing the barrel towards his torso, about the same place I stabbed him, and pulled the trigger. I got lucky and it struck him true. Course you, shot someone that close with a high powered rifle it's gonna tear them up good. Turned his right side into a tangled mess." Longfellow again stopped his story and turned to the table of fishermen who were eagerly listening, "You okay with that part of the story? Anything you'd like to add?" he asked them in a heated tone.

"Sounds good to us." And other affirmative statements echoed from the table, so the story went on,

"While he was laying down and dying I pulled Henrietta off his arm and started across the stream towards the Vim! factory. I figured I had a chance to catch up to those other two mutants and save that couple before they got took deep into the factory."


	4. Taste of Maine

At this point Piper had finished her glass of whiskey. Longfellow took another drink of his as she produced a packet of cigarettes from her pocket.

"Do you smoke?" she tilted the package towards Old Longfellow after pulling a cigarette out for herself.

"Ah, no thanks. I already got plenty of fog floating around in my lungs." He respectfully declined. Striking a flame to the cigarette, Piper took a quick puff and waited for Longfellow to continue his story. "Now, I had made it up to the woods just outside the soda factory. The super mutants were thick as thieves around that place. Getting in there was going to be a real challenge, possibly more of a challenge that what 1,000 caps were worth." He took another sip of his drink, "But those two knuckleheads caught me in a charitable mood, so I made my way closer to the shipping dock. It was on the lower level of the factory, close to the waterfront. The fog coming off the river gave me cover as I made my descent and most the mutants were bunched up on the higher levels. Luckily, mutants aren't too smart and the garage door didn't have a lock on it." Longfellow smiled at the thought, "Once I slid under that door it got real dark. The new tenants hadn't been paying the electric bill. Only had a few dim fluorescence lights to give me my bearings." Before going on, Longfellow reclined back from the table with a huff, "Those mutants were a little smarter than I gave credit. They had left two of them down there in shipping to patrol the area, and I happened to bump up next to both of them. Damned low-lighting." He leaned up, placing his elbows on the table, "I didn't want to start shooting and alert every greenskin to my arrival. Had to pull my knife back out and before they completely figured out I was there, I jumped up on the back of one. Planted my knife in his shoulder to keep from sliding back down. He started bucking something fierce. Spinning around, trying his damnedest to throw me off. His buddy came over with a 2x4 hoping to knock me off, but I got sight of him. He was winding up his swing and I let go of my knife handle when I saw the board incoming. Brute ended up smacking his partner right across the shoulders, dropping him to his knees. My adrenaline was pumping by this point and socking him on the chin sounded like a good idea at the time. Think it hurt my hand more than his jaw, but it was enough to knock him down. This hand was sore for the next two weeks." Longfellow held up his left hand flexing his fingers into a fist, "The big one wielding the 2x4 was coming at me still, so it took some quick thinking on my part to pull that knife out of the downed one's shoulder and shove it in his chest with all the force I could muster." Longfellow paused with a drink to let the moment sink in, "Got lucky, hit him right in his irradiated heart." Piper tapped the ash off her cigarette in a tray,

"You took down two super mutants with a skinning knife?" She was visible doubting him, but the old hunter insisted, nodding his head, "Sure it wasn't maybe just one mutant?" her voice cut through the haze of cigarette smoke clouding her face.

"What makes you think that? Don't think an old man can take down some super mutants?" he replied with humor while pouring himself another drink. Taking a puff Piper answered,

"I don't think anyone could take on two mutants with just a knife. I do believe you could drink me under the table." She jested while taking the whiskey bottle from Longfellow and pouring only her second glass.

"There was two of them, I promise." Longfellow took a drink from his fresh glass of liquor, "And once they were down, I kept moving on. Had to find that couple 'fore the mutants ripped them apart, but my hopes were dwindling by this point. Took the stairs out of the shipping floor to the production floor, biggest part of the factory, meaning the highest mutant concentration. There was a big commotion on the catwalks up near the top of the vats they mixed the soda syrup in. Some of them old vats still have some syrup in them from before the War, but they ain't fit for consumption, least not by any self-respecting creature. I took a squat behind one of bottling conveyor belts to assess what was going on up there. Lots of shouting and screaming, not a good omen. From what I saw the mutants' had the wife tied up by her wrists, dunking her into one of the syrup vats." Longfellow took another drink of whiskey, this time his face was much more somber as the alcohol touched his lips, "Mutants shouting they wanted to… flavor their meal.' His tone was much less enthused than it had been when telling his story, "They already had the husband chopped up. Could hear the cleaver cutting through meat up there." He took another slow drink, "Damn mutants." He took a moment of silent contemplation and continued with a deep breath, "I had to try to save her. Leaned up and brushed a bunch of bottles off the belt, crashing them on the floor. Using the conveyor belt as a rifle rest, I sighted in the closest mutant on the 2nd level. Hit him in the ankle, caused him to stumble into the big vat, and super mutants can't swim well. You know that?"

"Explains why I've never heard of a super mutant synchronized swimming team." Piper chuckled as she took a small drink of whiskey and scribbled down more of the story.

"There's your survival tip for the day, might save the life of that paramour of yours." He smiled a little, "Course this tipped the others off that something wasn't right. They dipped the wife into the tank & started raining rifle fire down on me. The glass bottles were exploding like fireworks as the bullets cut through them. Standing up real quick, I fired off another shot and moved down the conveyor line closer to the stairs. Unfortunately that bullet didn't hit anything. Once I made it to the bottom of the stairs I could sight in a mutant at the top of them. Course he already saw me too, so I had to bring Henrietta up quick and fire. Knocked the rifle out of his hand. While he was scrounging to pick it back up I ended him with a second shot." He waited a moment for Piper's pen to catch up with his story, "There were only 2 left & I got a short respite to climb up the stairs while they reloaded their magazines. Once I hit the top I had to duck behind one of their meat bags, and those things are just plain disgusting. Sure, I'm elbow-deep in creature guts, but Hell, I don't bundle them all up, the good and bad, in a bag. Then they just leave them sitting out in the open air with no attempt to cure them, good way to get nothing but spoiled meat. I've seen those savages eat worse though." A stiff drink of whiskey brought the hunter back on target, "Anyways, I'm hiding behind one of those meat bags and I can hear the bullets sinking into the gore inside them. Well, one of the bullets cut through all the guts and struck me here," he rubbed his finger across part of his left forearm, just above the wrist, "and then the bullet got lodged here." He scooted back and now motioned to a spot on his left leg, on the outside of his thigh. "Hurt like a son-of-a-gun, but wasn't going to be the death of me, but I knew I had to start firing back before a few more bullets moved unrestricted through my shabby cover. With a new shell levered in, I peeked up and fired at the mutant close to me. Bullet didn't kill him, hit him in the collarbone and he fell off the 2nd story catwalk, and it was the fall that killed him. The last one started shouting about how he was going to get me for killing his compatriots and marched towards me, assault rifle still going full blast. About half way through his little trek the chamber clicked empty on his gun. Taking my chance, I stood straight up, well best I could with my leg bleeding out. I stood up and put two shots in him, one in the chest, one in the head. Using Henrietta to prop myself up I started walking towards the center of the catwalk. This whole time that wife had been swimming in a vat of syrup. I didn't know if she could hold her breath that long, but I had to pull her out nonetheless."


	5. Arguing Semantics

The suspense was obvious on Piper's face as she waited with bated breath to learn the woman's fate. "I got over there and started hauling on the rope. I was pulling so hard I fell on my back when I tried to put my weight on this wounded leg." He tapped the side of the leg again to remind the reporter, and himself, of the injury received there. "She came outta that vat drizzling streams of syrup. I hobbled back up and cut her out of that rope and laid her on the ground. I wiped off of a big pool of the goo off her face and put my ear to her listening for a breath. Could hear a real small amount of air still moving, so I lay my hands on her and start pumping her chest, hoping to jumpstart something." Again Longfellow found himself taking a quiet pause staring at his half empty glass of whiskey. Returning to the present, he took a small sip and continued, "After about 10 minutes I hadn't made any progress. I leaned back down to her mouth and…"

"Right." Piper's words barely audible in the bar as she spared Longfellow from remembering any further details.

"I finally took a moment to patch up my wrist and keep me from bleeding out from the leg. Made a makeshift bandage for my arm out of a handkerchief I had with me doused in some whiskey. Tied my leg off with this belt." He lifted the belt that wrapped around over his shoulder to bring attention to it. "Didn't have time to dig out the bullet, and Hell, I ain't no doctor, probably would've made it worse going around digging in there with my knife. Well, with no job left and my current condition not particularly respectable I knew it was time to make haste from that factory before I had every mutant on the island down on me. Getting out proved a bit challenging. Those super mutants were swarming around the factory and I couldn't just run out thanks to the parting gift still aggravating my leg. I kept moving real slow, holding back the winces of pain, keeping to the shadows and corners best I could. Finally made it outside and rolled into the nearest patch of tall grass I could find. It was a bit smoother sailing from then on. I'm used to being up to my neck in them itchy weeds and those dumb bastards aren't the most observant creatures." It was time for another break in the story for a drink of whiskey and subsequent refill of the glass. Piper tapped the ashy part of her cigarette into a tray and spoke before Old Longfellow continued,

"That was quite the story Mr. Longfellow, could fill up a whole page with it, but what did this have to do with Trappers?"

"Now, I told you, patience. I'm about to get to that part real soon. Probably before I finish this glass." He took a large drink & Piper knew, given his drinking rate, it would be soon. She took a draw on her cigarette,

"Okay, this has been an awful lot of build-up for it; super mutants, pop factories, anglers."

She exhaled a stream of smoke after speaking.

"Gotta give Old Longfellow a break, in his old age he's prone to rambling. Likes to mix stories together as if they all happened at once." Livesey from the table of progressively drunker fishermen chimed in.

"I ain't going senile yet, still got a few good years in me. Course looking at your ugly mug has dulled my eyesight over the years." Longfellow shot back as he leaned over and poured a shot of whiskey into one of the fishermen's glasses. Livesey grabbed it up and the two toasted to 'Ya damned rat bastard.' then they both laughed a hearty, blue-collared chuckle. Piper feigned a breathy snicker to not feel left out of the revelry.

"Alright, go on with your fish tale. The boys want to know how it ends." Livesey jested lifting his beer to his lips. An eye roll and Longfellow had returned to addressing Piper.

"I crawled a good 4 miles in that grass till I hit a thick enough tree line where I could stand up and not be seen from the factory roof." Livesey immediately butted back in, bumping Piper up side her shoulder,

"Now, there he goes lying again. The nearest tree line down there is only about a mile out from the factory." His tone was condescending and a bit slurred.

"I know the one you're thinking of, it was on the other side of the factory. No, I had to drag myself over to another one on the North side." Longfellow defended his statement.

"The northern side's got the river running through it, ain't no tall grass." Livesey shot back.  
"Off to the Northwest there's a small swatch of grass with a tree line near 4 miles away. I'm out there a lot more than you are, sailor." Longfellow fired in retort. Piper snubbed out her smoke and broke up the two old goats,

"Why don't I just say it was a 2 mile crawl and we all get on with it." She shook her head in annoyance as she spoke. The two men looked at each other, as if trying to out-stare the other.

"Fine, it was a 2 mile crawl to that tree line." Longfellow conceded as Livesey huffed at what he still considered a blatant mistruth.

"Good, do you need to shake hands; kiss and make up, first? Or can we get back to the story, yet again." Piper gave sass to the old men as she produced a second cigarette from her pack. Both men audibly grumbled like old boat motors.

"Once I got into the woods, I found a fallen limb that'd make a better walking stick than my rifle would. Used it to help me limp back towards town a little quicker. Wasn't long till I forded across a shallow part of that river Livesey mentioned and was well and away from any more mutants. Course what I didn't realize until I reflected on this story much later was while I had avoided the mutants I think one of the Trappers from the Southwest Harbor must've spotted me as I was making my way up to Kitteredge Pass and went to warn his buddies at the Pine Crest Caverns."

"Ah, so this is where those Trappers finally come in." Piper exclaimed, perching a cigarette between her fingers.

"Yep, this is where those hooligans come in."


	6. Caught in a Trap

She took a long puff from her smoke as Longfellow finally told the story he promised at the beginning of this ordeal. "I wasn't making great time, but I was hobbling best I could to keep pace to reach Far Harbor, or Acadia if I was really desperate. The sun was setting and the fog was starting to thicken."

"How can you ever tell if the sun is setting here? It always looks like overcast whenever I'm here." Her eyes scanned across the barroom, "Which would explain why everyone around here is so chipper." Longfellow smiled an understanding grin before hiding it behind a glass of whiskey,

"Heh, heh. Well, you spend enough time on this island you start to notice how it changes as the sun sets. Fog gets denser, there's a chill in the air before the night falls. Course on this evening the fog was getting to a soupy consistence. I knew the lay of the land well enough to keep me in the right direction, but I started hearing something behind me in the fog. It was voices, not the deep voice of a mutant, the frantic ramblings of a Trapper. I knew the Pine Caverns must've been to my southeast. From the tone of their voices it sounded like they were looking for someone, most likely me. I was making plenty more noise than I usually do, but I had the fog helping hide me. Course, that meant they were practically invisible, just had voices in the mist to go on." He took a quick pause to take a deep breath before going on, "I found a tree to lean against with the limb under my armpit. Took Henrietta in my injured hand and grabbed the last few bullets out of my belt. I counted them as I jammed them in the load gate, only had 3 bullets left. Unfortunately it sounded as if there were much more than 3 Trappers. Well, I took the stock in my right hand and used that limb to move onwards towards the ravine in Kitteredge Pass." Longfellow leaned in to the table emphasizing what he said next, "As I neared the slope, I could make out the figure of one of the Trappers. I would've just stopped and let'em pass, but the bastard was coming towards me." He straightened up and his tone changed to reflect his collected experience, "Luckily Trappers seem to have a 'thing' for strapping shit to their heads which don't do much but obscure their vision. Once they do get a lock on you they fight like mean sons-of-bitches. Sure they ain't as tough as a super mutant, but they're a little smarter & twice as insane. And both breeds of idiots still like eating people, must be part of the entrance exam to be a psycho, huh." Longfellow huffed as he took a drink of whiskey and returned to his main story, "I brought Henrietta up to my shoulder and rested her barrel on the back of my left forearm, above where my wrist was wounded. I sighted in that stupid lobster cage on his head. He had just started to shout when I pulled the trigger. Took him down with one shot, but I heard all his buddies start shouting and the grass and fallen leaves were rustling, footsteps moving closer to me. Keeping the rifle propped up I started limping forward like a scalded dog. Heard some footsteps coming close behind me. Swung my branch around and planted it in the dirt, tucked the rifle close to my cheek. Pulled the lever down to load up the 2nd round and waited for his figure to make a silhouette in the fog. Got him sized up and took the shot as he ran towards me in a diagonal path. He started clutching his throat like this," Longfellow threw one of his gloved hands around his neck and struggled as if he couldn't breathe, "Must've hit him in the throat I suppose. The other Trappers heard that and they were getting a better ping on my location, so I ran best I could towards the pass. All that blood pumping down there wasn't doing much more than leaking out. I saw the rocky walls of the chasm fade in from the fog. Had to stop then, my leg was thumping like a drum with pain. Putting a lot of my weight on that tree limb, I climbed down the pass. Once I hit the bottom, I spotted a little alcove where a Mirelurk had bedded down. Grabbed a sticker bush, which is a real rigid plant so even when you pull it off its roots you can lay it down and it won't collapse all to the ground. I hunkered down in that spot and drew the bush in front of me to avoid the Trappers catching a sight of me in the fog. I could hear them carrying on. Some were up on the ridges of Kitteredge Pass, a few were walking the ravine. Heard them shuffling down the pass. I kept quiet as a church mouse, hoping they would get tired and return to Pine Crest, but I planned on spending a few hours stuck in that hole.


	7. Surrounded by Fools

Piper had unknowingly found herself on the edge of her seat, cigarette close to falling out of her slightly agape mouth, wrapped up in the story. "Unfortunately those bastards were feeling extra ambitious that day. They were combing up and down that canyon for a good half an hour. One of them got real close to catching me. He rustled the bush that was hiding me. If it wasn't for the fog being so thick he would've made me. The Trapper moved on, but they were still all over that valley. Only one bullet left, I'd rather not end up in a stand-off with 20-25 well-armed Trappers."

"20?" came another loud interjection from Livesey's table, "When you told us this story, you said there were maybe only 10-15." The brash retort brought Piper back to her senses and while Longfellow took another long drink of liquor, she wedged in her own question,  
"And I though you said you always made sure to count your ammo after fighting that pack of wolves?" Longfellow sat the glass down slowly, buying time to think of an answer.

"Livesey, you keep interrupting we'll be here all night." Avoiding the question, he then turned back to Piper, "I was out of bullets because I wasn't expecting to have to shoot through a whole mess of super mutants. Remember the plan was to avoid them best we could inside the factory. Now, where was I?" Old Longfellow swirled his drink,

"Telling us how many trappers you had surrounding you." Piper's sly tone got a hearty smile from all the fishermen at the other table.

"There were 20 of'em. I couldn't sit in my hidey hole for much longer. I heard a break in the commotion. Suspected the trappers had settled in and were just waiting for me to move, and move I did."

"So you just played into their hand?" came a question of confusion from the reporter as she took the cigarette from her mouth to gesture.

"Aye, but like I said, those trappers aren't the brightest. I was feeling pretty sure of myself. Took up my crutch and started down the pass. Fog was still soupy and getting thicker. Barely able to see my own hand. Avoiding stepping on all the dry leaves and twigs was a bigger challenge than it usually is for me thanks to those wounds. I was trying to make good time, then I hit a really big pile of sticks. Soon as I heard the crunch I knew I was in trouble. Started hearing voice from down the path. They were sorta whispering real loud that they heard movement. I didn't have time to think, just dropped down behind the nearest big rock. Hurt like Hell too. There were two of them from my account that came over. They were fumbling around in the fog, kicking at the ground. They were getting close, closer than I'd like. I was trying to move farther behind that rock without giving away my position. Crawling on that craggy rock was doing wonders for my leg, let me tell you." Reimagining the pain required another long drink of whiskey, "They finally figured they were just hearing a giant rat and started back down the valley towards the Pine Caverns. I crawled a little bit farther to be sure there weren't any stragglers, then I stood back up, couldn't crouch well, it shot pain up my leg." Longfellow refilled his glass, emptying the bottle, "Mitch, another bottle over here." His voice echoed loudly among the bar. The crowd was beginning to thin out as the hours on the clock reset to the single digits, "Keeping close to the wall, I could see when I was starting to come out of the pass. Kitteredge Pass has a lot of hard slate that lines the walls, all the soil runs down into the bottom of the chasm. When you start seeing the sides of the wall resemble hills of dirt you're getting close to the end. Unfortunately for me, I ended up bumping into a trapper standing on the incline out of the pass. He hesitated from the surprise of being charged into. He yelled 'gotcha' as he went for the pipe pistol on his waist. It got caught on a loose piece of mooring rope he had wrapped around him, gave me a chance to pull out my skinning knife and jam it in where ever I could get it to stick. He went quiet after a few jabs, but again I was on the run from more incoming. I didn't think I could hide again from all the trappers coming down on me and I was so close to the end I just ran for. Threw down my crutch and shot up out of that pass best I could." Debby dropped off a fresh bottle of house whiskey, Longfellow's cue to finish off his current glass and pop the cork, "I was climbing up that incline and I could hear all the trappers funneling down towards me. Knew of only one place I could run to."


	8. Hope on the Horizon

"Where was that?" Piper asked curiously as she stamped out her cigarette. Filling up his glass, Longfellow answered,

"The Horizon 1207 Wreck." Piper's face scrunched up in wonderment, "There's a super mutant up there. Only one I've met who's a decent folk." Longfellow answered,

"Oh. I think I remember Blue mentioning something about him." Longfellow lifted his glass up,

"Yep, ol' Erikson. At this point I had only met him about 3 times prior, but we seemed to see eye to eye on a lot of things."

"Let me guess, you bonded over disliking people." Piper teased.

"Heh, heh. Yeah you could say that." Longfellow laughed half-heartedly. "I was running from the trappers best I could, but they had an advantage on me. I could hear bullets whizzing around my head as they fired wildly into the fog. There were at least two occasions where I almost ran into a tree thanks to the fog, and I know at least a few trappers got clotheslined by low hanging branches. I was stumbling over the uneven ground just praying I'd see the silver wing of the wreckage come in sight.

"Pretty sure you ran into a tree too, Longfellow." Livesey shot in after slamming down a beer. This got a laugh from the whole table. This time Longfellow ignored him. Livesey and his friends stood up from the table, collected their drinks and left for the door having finished their long night of drinking. Livesey smacked Longfellow on the back as they left, "See you around, Longfellow." He then waved a drunken finger at Piper, "Don't believe half what he says."

"Will do." Piper remarked. After they left the bar, Longfellow picked up his story,

"I didn't run into any trees, but I swear I found every stump 'n' hole in that forest. I was scurrying on all fours at points trying to avoid falling." A break from a whiskey drink, "well, more on all three, putting my weight on that injured wrist felt like I worse idea than falling down. Those trappers were catching up too. Bullets were kicking up the mud around my feet. I finally saw the plane wreck through the fog." He took a drink, "So, I start scurrying up the wing shouting for Erikson with trappers climbing up right behind me. He heard me after the 3rd scream and appeared out of the fog at the top of the wing wielding a pole hook and a confused look. I yelled about the trappers following me. He helped me down into the fuselage where he had made his home at. Those trappers started scurrying up the wing and Erikson started swinging that hook like a madman. He had them tumbling off the side like bowling pins."

"How could you tell through the fog?" Piper's tone was tempered with disbelief. This time Longfellow was quick with the reply.

"Erikson's plane wreck is up on a high spot. Up at that altitude the fog was starting to thin out a little more, it's more wispy." Feeling sure in his answer, Longfellow celebrated with a yet again another quick shot, "Now, while he was holding them off I started hobbling towards a locker where I knew he stored some ammunition. Had to use the butt of my rifle to beat the padlock off. One of the trappers had snuck in through a rust hole and was coming towards me with a knife. I had to abandon my 'lock picking' effort." Longfellow chuckled at his own joke, "leaned my back on the locker to stabilize myself as I took aim. That trapper charged right into a .45-70 slug. He ate my last bullet and fell down dead. After levering out the spent round, I started beating on the locker again. Erikson was getting overwhelmed up top and dropped down into his living quarters with me." Piper had started to pull out a new cigarette, but was again taken up with the momentum of Longfellow's story, barely remembering to write down what he was saying, "Trappers were flowing down like rain after him. He got one more good swing with that bloodied ol' hook before it snapped in half over a trapper's skull. That padlock finally busted for me and I threw open the door and grabbed the first box of ammo I could find. Erikson was fighting them off with his bare hands, trying not to get shot by those smart enough to hold onto their guns. Once I was loaded up I told him to drop down out of the way. He ducked and I started pouring lead into the mob of psychos. Erikson picked up his own rifle and joined in. Those trappers started thinning down real quick. Some of those trapper bullets were pinging a little too close to me for comfort, so I limbed my way behind a row of old airplane seats. With a few steps back, Erikson was next to his dog cages." Longfellow took a moment from his fevered storytelling pace to breathe, "He had just started getting into training guard dogs when I first met him. At this point he was mostly trying to tame some of the local wolves he caught in traps." Piper furiously scribbled that down after realizing she hadn't wrote anything in a while, "Using one of those big hands of his, he ripped one of the doors open and three wolves shot out of their and onto the trappers. Between those dogs and our rifles, those trappers were filing into a killing floor." Longfellow took another pause, his face seemed to betray a depressing thought he was keeping hidden. As he took a large gulp of whiskey, Piper gave him a curious look, debating to ask what he was thinking, "There were a lot dead trappers in that airplane. They may be crazy, dumb sonnuvabitches, but still, they're people." There was an audible silence in the bar which was nearly empty now save for Mitch & Debby, "After a bit they smartened up and started retreating. Erikson had to call his wolves back. They were trying to chase down the stragglers." Looking up from her notepad after crossing a T, Piper asked,  
"So, what happens after that? Did the trappers try to come back?" As she asked, Longfellow finished his glass,

"They didn't come back around after that. Erikson wasn't too happy about his house being trashed, but he helped patch me up a little better than I was and I stayed to help him throw all those corpses outside. We ended up spending the rest the evening shooting the bull, much like this, and I rested the night there. Woke up early the next morning, sore as all get out, and started the walk back to Far Harbor." At this point in the story, Debby came over and placed Old Longfellow's empty glass and half empty bottle on a tray and started to wipe down the table.

"It's almost closing time Longfellow. Start wrapping up this fish tale, I'd like to get home at a respectable time." Longfellow smiled with her and dropped a few caps on her tray,

"Don't worry. I'm almost finished up here." He turned to look at Piper, who was now showing signs of being tired, "And I think I've about bored my biographer here to sleep."

"No, I just didn't expect one story to take 5 hours to tell." She returned.

"You don't know Old Longfellow real well then." Debby laughed. Old Longfellow stood up and stretched his muscles. Piper followed suit.

"Well, I think I've given you plenty to work with. Sure those mainlander in the Commonwealth'll be all too interested in my story." He said with thick sarcasm.

"Sure they'll enjoy it after I dress it up a little bit." Piper retorted with even thicker sarcasm. They both laughed at each other as Longfellow ushered her to the door and back into the Fog.


End file.
